


Talking to the Moon

by AlohaSoleil



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ending is kinda canon, F/M, He's trying to cope, Hector has a rough life, Mental Breakdown, Near Death, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 18:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17269274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlohaSoleil/pseuds/AlohaSoleil
Summary: In life and death, Héctor created his own unique and special way to talk to his wife and daughter--even if they couldn't hear him.





	Talking to the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is inspired by Bruno Mars' song, "Talking to the Moon." I was listening to it in the car this past weekend and this idea hit me, so I knew I had to write it.

_At night when the stars light up my room,_

_I sit by myself_

_Talking to the moon_

_Tryin' to get to you_

_In hopes you're on the other side_

_Talking to me too_

_Or am I a fool_

_Who sits alone_

_Talking to the moon_

 

He was a little late.

**_Mierda, mierda, mierda…!!!_ **

 Okay, so he was pretty late, which would explain his frantic strides to make it to the next shuttle. Ceci told him to meet at the studio at 11:30 a.m--and Héctor only had fifteen minutes to make it _if_ he caught this next shuttle. Not too bad if he kept running as if the cops were chasing him.  His chest heaved as he sprinted across roads and turned along a few shortcuts he had discovered. The nearest shuttle was by the market, the vendors lining to the center in hindsight.

 Fireworks went off his in his head, celebrating his upcoming victory.

  _YES! YES! YESSSS!_

 He was not going to be late after all. Mentally, he did a little joyous dance--shaking his limbs and hips. A grito almost erupted from his throat, but he needed every breath for this sprint. .

 “Almost-there,” he panted, sprinting with all his might. Nothing was going to stop him now….

  _“AHH!”_

  _“OOOF!”_

 Except maybe one unfortunate soul.

 A few of his limbs and sewing supplies laid scattered across the ground from the harsh impact. Héctor  reconnected his bones together before dusting himself off and helping the groaning woman to her feet. “Lo siento, are you--”

 “YOU!”

_That voice._

 “Imelda?” He was met with silence, but the air of anger and bitterness directed at him with a single glare was clear as day.  The unexpected encounter with her left him in shock and slightly paralyzed, unsure what to do or say. Imelda wasted no time staring back at him and bent down to pick up the scattered goods from her basket. “Here let me h--”

 “I don’t need your help,” she spat back icily. Héctor stilled for a moment, considering his options as she continued to pick up her items on the ground. After some thought, he bent down and attempted to scoop up her sewing supplies. “Don’t touch me!”

 “But I can pay--” Imelda swiftly snatched the small boxes in his hand and threw it in her basket.

 “Let me make myself clear.” She pointed an accusing finger at him, which had the tall skeleton retreating immediately. Her voice was even and powerful; a tone Héctor knew not to interrupt. “I don’t need anything from you--not your help, money, sympathy, _nothing_. I didn’t need you in life...” Her eyes narrowed at him and jaw tightened. “...and I certainly don’t need you in death.”  

 “I-Imelda…”

“As I’ve told you before...I want nothing to do with you.” She swiftly turned around and walked away without glancing back at the man she was once her husband.

The weight of her anger, his guilt, and pain kept his head bowed as the sting of tears burned in his eyes. He fought to keep them from falling in public, but the sharp bite of her words cut through his heart with a clean cut. Salt water began to brim the edges of his eyes, and a small drop landed against the cobblestone. Héctor glanced up at the direction Imelda walked away and his throat clenched painfully. What did he expect running into her? He was the one who walked out their door so many years ago--eyes blinded by a bedazzled dream and hopes of fulfilling his role as husband and father. Maybe it was for the best at the time, but it did not change the fact that he left his familia alone.

 And Imelda had every right in life and death to walk away from him.

 But a small part of him kept hoping she would be calm enough to accept his apology and attempts to make things right. Every effort since her arrival seven years ago had proved to be futile, yet it only left a unfulfilled void in his soul to live on--raw and open.  

 “I’m sorry,” he whispered, no one close enough to hear the confession except for a small gust of wind passing through his empty bones.

* * *

Héctor kicked a pebble off the creaking dock and it fell into the calm waters flowing through Shantytown with a loud _plop_. The echoes of his bones clacking against the ground accompanied his unsettled thoughts. A soft, chilly breeze passed through the darkness that loomed over this world. He glanced up at the sky--a bright collection of stars sprinkled against the black canvas and a few cloud puffs wandering freely. A low and tired sigh escaped while his eyes searched…

  _Maybe not tonight…_

 Another cool gust passed by, interrupting his train of thought. Héctor considered turning around and walking back to his shack since the night was only growing older. It wasn’t going to warm up, especially on a lonely and quiet evening like tonight. With no interest in venturing further, he turned on his heels and followed the path home.

 He didn’t usually wander along the winding docks on late evenings. If his thoughts or feelings were too overwhelming or tangled, he’d set out for fresh air and a reflective walk to collect himself. The sudden encounter with Imelda this afternoon stirred the hurt and guilt he masked with smiles and jokes--the pain he harbored since arriving in this world. He muffled a sniffle and quickly wiped something away from his eye as her words replayed in his mind. It was just as painful as their reunion after 50 years apart.

  _I don’t want you near me or my family!”_

 A heart-wrenching pain clenched around his  nonexistent heart and his emotions threatened to burst at any moment. Héctor quickly shook off the painful memories and thought about the upcoming holiday. There was only less than two weeks until the infamous marigold bridge would appear for the night and he needed to prepare everything for his new bridge-crossing scheme. He was going to cross that bridge before the claws of the Final Death claimed him. He had to cross--he promised Coco he would come home and nothing would stop him from trying. Every failure delivered a disappointing blow, yet it fueled his drive to see her one last time. No matter how many others didn’t believe in him, he continued to believe in himself. A small, yet hopeful smile tugged on his lips at the possibility of seeing his little girl again. How he missed her perfect face and the happy memories they shared when it was the trio of them…

The emotional pain returned and the dam was about to burst _now_. Fortunately, Héctor had just reached his door and he quickly scurried into the privacy of home. As soon as he closed the door, he let go. Tears flowed freely without resistance and his body trembled as he drowned in the overwhelming air of sorrow and guilt. He curled in and sank to the floor, too tired to stand on his own and just wanting to fall apart. Everything hurt too much and Héctor just wanted it to end.

* * *

  _How long will you be gone, Papá?” Coco looked at him from her spot on the bed, as H_ _é_ _ctor settled on the edge. He brushed away a small strand from her face and tucked it behind her ear._

 " _Only two weeks.” His daughter’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion and she tilted her head to the side, silently asking for clarification. H_ _é_ _ctor chuckled at the amusing face she pulled. “That’s fourteen days, mija.”_

_There was a small pause as the number processed in her head--calculating how long it would feel. Her eyes widened and a small gasp peeped from her when she came to the realization. “That’s too long!” she protested adamantly and clung to him._

 " _I know,” he agreed, encircling his arms around her tiny form. “But I’ll be back so fast, you won’t even notice I was gone.”_

 _“Yes, I will!” Coco pulled back and gave him her best disappointed pout. Her eyes narrowed exactly like a fiery woman she had known all her three years of life. It took H_ _é_ _ctor’s strongest willpower to keep a giggle from bubbling at the uncanny resemblance, but a smile was already curving up. “Not funny.” Her eyes narrowed further at him. “I’ll have to sing our song by myselffff.” This time, the puppy-dog look she inherited from a musical Papá blinked back in his face._

  _Ay, too cute for his heart._

 _“Ohhhh, mijita perfecta!” H_ _é_ _ctor held her close and peppered tiny kisses over her smushy face. Coco’s contagious laughter filled the room and Héctor_ _pushed her back on to the bed--no sign of stopping his loving attack._

_“Papá! That tickles!”_

_Héctor_ _paused for a moment, a huge grin still on his face before he gave a few more quick smooches. Loud giggles erupted from the toddler, until her small hands tapped his shoulder to stop. He relented and leaned back with satisfaction at the echoes of her laughter still ringing in his large ears._

_“I’ll miss you so much, too,” he repeated, patting her stomach gently. “When I’m gone, you can sing our song every night at bedtime.”_

_“But sometimes I miss you more after our song,” she revealed quietly._

_“You do?” Héctor_ _pondered her confession thoughtfully. His eyes glancing around the room as he thought hard; his focus landed on the window and a knowing smile returned. He scooped up his little girl in his arms and pulled the curtain aside. “Mira, Coco.”_

_“Where?”_

_His finger pointed at a crescent moon lighting the night sky--beams of moonlight seeping through a few clouds and shining over the other houses._

_“Do you see it? La luna?”_

_“Mmhm.”_

_“If you’re still lonely after singing out song, go to the window and talk to the moon. You can say whatever you like, and pretend it’s me listening and watching over you while you sleep.”_

_“What if the moon isn’t outside?”_

_“Ah, then you can talk to the stars also.”_

_“What if I cannot see the stars too?”_

_“Mija, even if you can’t see the moon and the stars does not mean it’s not there.”_

_“Oh…” Coco looked back outside, investigating if there were stars dancing around the moon._

_“It’s the same with me,” Héctor_ _added, shifting her in his arms. “Just because I am gone doesn’t mean I’m not here.” He pointed at her heart, and he was met with beautiful baby brown eyes staring back at him with adoration and wonder. “And I will always, always come back home.”_

_The pair shared a quiet moment together before Coco wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. “Okay,” she muttered in a quiet, yet accepting tone. “Te quiero, Papá.”_

 

* * *

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he walked through the door and pushed through a meltdown. But he felt lighter. As if his world was no longer forced upon his shoulders and his only cross to bear alone. The mental scars and wounds weren’t healed, but just letting all of his bottled emotions out held a cathartic relief that was much-needed. He sat in silence--literally and mentally. His eyes mindlessly watched the dark waters ripple and and flow harmoniously; occasionally, he heard a few small waves crash against aging wood.

Out of the blue, beams of silver moonlight reflected over the waters. Héctor noticed it immediately and almost felt an energy calling out to him--guiding him closer to the ledge. Half-coherent and entranced, he walked over to the edge and curiously peeked up at the night sky. Beaming brightly down at him was the full face of the moon greeting and showering him in a diamond light. A calmness washed over immediately, all senses relaxing, and he sat along the ledge with his legs dangling and feet submerged. It had been some time since he’d last dipped his feet in the chilling waters.

“We haven’t talked in a while, mija,” he uttered softly, glancing down and swirling circles with his feet. His eyes were fixed on the muddled reflection of the moon wrinkling on the water. The water also felt refreshingly cool on his bones--a pleasant feeling that relaxed some of the pent-up tension in his feet and mind. It was always invigorating to do this; he needed to remember to do this more often. “It’s almost  Día de Muertos and I’ve been getting some supplies so I can cross the bridge and see you again! Guess how?” A pause. “Of course you’re right! I’m gonna make an alebrije costume.”  

Speaking of that, he needed to get some more things from Ceci and also maybe ask her to put together his costume. Oh well, he could worry about that tomorrow. Maybe things were going to fall in place for him this year and then he could--He stopped himself  from finishing. He was building up a large swell of hope again and a small voice told him not to in this moment; yet, the cosmic halo provided a safe energy that Héctor felt comfortable doing so. And anyway, it had been some months since he had last had the chance to “talk” to his sweet hija.

“I’m sure it will work this time and when it does Papá is going to give you the biggest hug!” He vowed at the moon, smiling at the continuous radiance in the sky. A small chuckle bubbled from his throat as he twirled his ankle around in circles beneath the water’s skin. “Hehe...ay, when I do see you, you won’t be a little girl.” He paused and contemplated that piece of knowledge before switching into a more cheerful tone. “That’s okay because you’ll always be my little girl no matter what age--even if you live to be 100! I hope you’re doing well and happy with your familia at home--that’s all I ever wanted for you.” Silence came over him again at the bittersweetness on his tongue and in his mind.

When Ernesto convinced him to do the last tour, his main reason was to build financial stability while doing what his loves for his familia. Even if one of Héctor’s core wants was happiness for Imelda and Coco, reality established he had other needs that required tending and money--food and shelter. If he could make enough money from this tour, he might be able to cover their basic needs and more. He could provide his girls with the things in life he felt they deserved. But...as luck would have it, that’s not what came to be. He just wanted to secure their happiness with his dream and music.

“When I was on tour, I would talk to the moon and stars hoping you could hear me--telling you about a funny story Ernesto did or a toy I knew you’d love. I would imagine what you might say to the stars and if your mamá was with you--trying to put you to sleep, but perhaps staying awake with you to talk to me. Everyday I thought about you two and missed you more and more as time went on.” He sighed at the memories flashing by in his former life. “Even after I came here...I talked to you every night and hoped that you could hear me from the other side. And that you were talking to me, too.”

Silence befell upon him as his eyes cast down at the water. He was looking, but not seeing the details of ripples brushing against his bones nor the muddled image of the moon printed on the surface.  

“Also, I saw your mamá today and…she wasn’t too happy to see me...again.” Héctor kept his head down, feeling as if an intimidating presence suddenly loomed over him. “She still looks as beautiful as the day I met her...the fiery and passionate woman I fell in love with.” The thought of her warmed and chilled his heart--his love for her had never died out. But...the same could not be said for her. If he hadn’t poured his heart out with unstoppable sobs earlier, he would be having it right now. Thankfully, a weariness hung over him as he approached the subject.

“She doesn’t want me coming around, and I don't blame her,” he continued, slowly rolling out his thoughts into the right words. “But I just want to tell her--”

He stopped himself and glanced up at the moon. Nerves shivered down his spine and took him back to his courting days with the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. It had been awhile since he’d done this, but perhaps this may be only time he could do it.  

“Imelda…”He felt imaginary muscles in his throat clench and he swallowed a phantom lump. “I don’t think I’ll have the chance to say this to you in this world, so I’ll do it this way...I’m sorry.” Héctor paused for a moment, but he was not met with any interruptions--no angry curses; no boots thrown violently at him; no glares. He took a deep breath and dwindled with his fingers. “Since I came here, the only way I could apologize to you was like this. Not a single night went by where I didn’t tell you how sorry I was and that I missed you, loved you. I waited so long to apologize when you came here and I thought you would ask for me...but I was wrong.” He shook his head ashamed at his hopes. “The worst mistake of my life was walking from _our_ world.”

Héctor swallowed as another ball of emotions brought back the sting in his eyes. He wiped at his eye sockets to prevent any more tears from budding.

“I may have lost my life, but what hurt most was losing you and your love. Because of my foolish mistake, I failed you and Coco. We could have had a long life together, more bebés to love and care for--the big familia we always dreamed of having. And I gave it up.” He needed to pause before he inched closer to another meltdown. But the momentum of his emotions was too strong to resist and he simply gave in to the current. “Even if you heart will no longer accept me, I respect your choice. But I wanted you to know, even if you won’t hear it: my heart is forever yours and Coco’s--that will never change. It always belonged to you two because you were the greatest blessings in my life. No dream, song, or temptation could ever change that.”

He tried to chuckle through a pained smile; a last trivial effort to push away the domineering pain. But the overwhelming anguish and love in his bones forced another stream of tears down his face.

“Te amo, Imelda.” His voice cracked while more tears mingled in the waters below. That familiar pain pulsed through his chest cavity as he remembered the happy memories and his encounters with her in this world. “Te amo,” he croaked into the darkness. Again, no one nearby to hear his declaration of love to a woman he lost.

Another rollercoaster of emotions and tears crumbled within Héctor, yet it didn’t sway him as powerfully as it did earlier. He allowed himself to break down further--thinking if he kept crying, then he wouldn’t have any tears left. That would be one nice thing from today. Emotions clashed in his brain-- when the storm of guilt, blame, and hurt thundered inside him, one part of him simply wanted to fade into the Final Death. But as soon as he thought of Coco, it subdued the rash and dangerously impulsive thoughts. If he faded away now, then he would never have peace. At the very least, he could keep trying until the very end--even if he never succeeded. The ghost of a smile touched his lips at the memory of his little girl.

Yes. It would be better to fade into the Final Death, not seeing her, but knowing he had tried his best and every scheme and resource he could lay his hands on.

“Te quiero, Coco,” Héctor added, glimpsing at the silver sphere. “Just in case you forgot, you can always talk to me anytime, mija. Even if I’m not with you, I’m still here listening.”

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

“Sí?” Héctor called out, wiping his face with his sleeve. Hopefully, his voice didn’t sound too distraught.

“You sitting alone and talking to the moon again like an idiota?”

 “No, Chich. Of course not.” He heard the door almost forced open and the creaks with every step of his guest.

 “You’re a horrible liar.” The shorter skeleton wobbled over and settled beside him--two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila in hand. He placed both glasses between them and began to pour the liquid almost to the brim. “Here.”

“Ehhh…”

“Any time you talk to the rock in the sky, something happened.” Chich grabbed his glass and nudged Héctor’s shoulder. His arm lowered at the slow shake of his companion’s head. “Ay, then drink one whenever you’re ready-aghh what are you doing?” He jerked when he suddenly felt Héctor leaning into him.

“Gracias, Chich.”

“Don’t lean too much, you’ll spill the tequila--then you owe me one,” he grumbled before  knocking back his glass with one smooth gulp. A crinkle creased in his face at the burning aftertaste travelling down.

“Ok.”

“Get off me.”

“Ok.”

Neither men moved from their spot and simply sat in comfortable silence.

“You’re an idiota, you know that right?”

“I know,” Héctor exhaled.

Silence.

“Are you okay?”

“No lo sé.” The tall skeleton straightened up and let out another weary sigh. “I made a mistake…” Gentle pats on his shoulder forced him to glance over at Chich.

“We all do. No one is perfect.” Chich peered at Héctor with an empathetic expression that pulled a smile on his face. “One mistake don’t make you terrible--it makes you human.”

A smaller weight lifted off of Héctor’s shoulders at those words. The honesty, authenticity, and empathy from that statement filled him with an unexpected, but much appreciated relief. It made the night a little less lonely and more comforting. At least one person understood. Chich didn’t know the details, but he understood the feelings evoked. Even when it felt like no one in the world wanted, cared, or loved him, a few simple heartening sentences from a friend made all the difference. It was just one person out of hundreds, thousands, and millions of other souls; yet the companionship from one felt like the entire world.

Héctor’s heart filled to the brim with gratitude and appreciation.

“Gracias.” He took his glass of tequila and took the shot with a quick gulp, and set it back neatly upside down next to the other.

“De nada, idiota.”

* * *

“I promise! I won’t let Coco forget you! Ahh!”

With the gentle touch of a petal, a twelve-year old boy was transported back to his own world. The entire Rivera family exhaled a collective sigh of relief when the magic worked just in time to give Miguel his life back--especially Héctor and Imelda. Even after giving their blessing, Imelda remained by her husband’s side with his hand in hers; a shocking, yet bittersweet display for the rest of the family. No one moved out of hesitation and uncertainty. Nonetheless, as seconds ticked by, the group found themselves slowly and cautiously drifting closer to the couple at a safe distance to observe and allow the pair their moment.

“Hold on a little longer, Héctor,” Imelda whispered. She slid her arm beneath his neck to prop him up slightly. The least she could for him in these moments was make him feel comfortable and acknowledged. “Miguel is going to help you--”

“Imelda…”

“--he’s a smart boy and will find a way.”

“Just like--nngh--you.” The discomfort on his face as he endured another golden shimmer was a dagger repeatedly piercing into her heart. If only she could have done things differently…

“And you,” she added.

“I’m--sorry.”

“Lo sé...I... accept it.”

Héctor looked up at her with grateful eyes, relief flooding his irises. They seemed so weary and exhausted to Imelda--too unusual for a man who was always full of life. “Never thought--I’d--get to tell you that,” he managed to say without too much interruption. “Can’t believe I got to--ah--tell you twice.”

Imelda held him a bit closer to her and closed her eyes. These words were not easy for her to say, but she needed to tell him or else guilt would gnaw into her soul for eternity. “Lo siento, Héctor,” she whispered, grasping his hand tighter. She tried to steady her breathing as so many emotions raged within--guilt, anger, concern, fear, lo--well, she wasn’t fully sure of that last one. But it clashed chaotically in her organized and controlled mind. “I hurt you badly and turned you away for so long when you were not at fault.”

His fingers weakly wiggled in hers, but his body was too tired. Instead, he tried to tap her palm reassuringly. “Don’t worry--not fault--’s mine…”

“No it’s not.” ”

“...is.”

“Don’t argue with me.” Her voice trembled slightly, and Héctor glimpsed into her eyes trying to decipher those emotions swirling in her chestnut irises. “Be strong. Keep fighting. For Coco, Miguel, your familia...for me. You’ve been fighting for so long--don’t give up now. Not yet,” she rasped; the pain catching in her throat. 

“Least--not alone this--time.” And he gave her that pitiful and grateful smile that melted her heart. Oh no, she could feel her eyes slightly watering--not right now! She was always the strong one of the family and he needed her strength. There was no time for her to breakdown in the face of her dying husband in this vulnerable moment.

She took a deep breath. “Were you alone when you…” Her words trailed off without finishing the sentence because she didn’t want to raise more painful memories for him. Was she prepared for the answer? The fierce voice in her head encouraged her and reminded her of her strength and resilience when she began the shoe business. Of course she could handle it, the voice said. But Héctor never answered. Imelda focused on his face--his silence and weak smile had given her the answer. She wanted to scream, but resisted. “You cannot leave again.” Her grip on his hand tightened and her thumb ran gentle circles along his bones. “Stay.”  

“Not sure I can, ‘Melda...” he whispered, the pain weaved into his voice and she felt that imaginary knife twisting in her heart to intensify the ache. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she had brought this upon him; she was the one who had driven him to his Final Death when the truth was far from the one she had accepted so many years ago.

“Come home, Héctor.” She tried to be steel herself and was met with a confused and almost incoherent glance at her command. “I know you tried to come home all this time--”

“Oh no,” he interrupted her. “...moon is...gone…”

“Huh?”

“Remember we...talked to moon when...missed...each other?” All of her memories of nightly discussions with the silver orb when Héctor was away on tours, before marriage and with Coco, flashed before her eyes. “Can’t talk now…too late.”

“Then speak to the sun.” She cut him off firmly, but not with anger. “It is a new day and you will see many more.”

“I…” Another wave of golden light abruptly interrupted his sentence and trembled through his weak body. Imelda cradled him protectively  as if he were a fragile child--his bones brittle and yellow against her pearly, ivory ones. It was the physical evidence of how her anger and spite had hurt him and she mustered more willpower to sustain her strength. His eyes were beginning to droop with every new shimmer. “...not sure…”

“If Coco were here with us, what would you tell her?” She urged gently, trying to keep him conscious through the next few trembles. Her body tensed with each shimmer--anticipating each one to be the last that would take him away from her again. But if this was the end, then....she wanted him to have a chance at his last words, no matter how much it might hurt her.

“Papá always...loved you.”

“She never hated you,” Imelda admitted, her voice soft but definitely _not_ cracking. “She always thought about you and talked to you at night. No one could make her forget or hate you--not even me.”

“You both…” He winced as another golden flicker subsided, but still managed to pull a smile.  

“Sí?”

“...Always had my heart.”

Those words stole her breath and almost rendered her speechless. She waited for him to continue, but he just gazed at her silently with a somewhat coherent look. A shimmer took hold of him again and reminded Imelda of the borrowed time Héctor had left.

“So did you,”she whispered softly to him and one of her tears landed softly on his cheekbone.  

Imelda saw sparks of happiness burst in his eyes and smile before he closed them peacefully, and she braced herself for the worst. His body relaxed in her arms, and he didn’t seem to be in any pain--he just looked like an innocent child sleeping serenely. Imelda prayed this was not it. Today was the first day she touched him with concern and care since he left on tour. All her other memories were violent or full of curses or both.

 _This_ was the true Héctor Rivera--the one she fell in love with, married, and bore a child for. For so long, she constructed a despicable image of him to make it easier to hate him and it was all in vain. She pushed away his memories for so long that his genuine sentiment felt like an electric current flowing through her bones. She almost didn’t remember how to treat him with love, until a few familiar lyrics flowed out.

  _Y aunque la vida me cueste, llorona_

 _No dejaré d_ _e querete_

The lyrics beyond those two lines seemed to powerful in this moment, so Imelda hummed and carried the tune in the surrounding silence.  

“Mamá Imelda?” The family came closer to her as she finished the last tunes of the song. Rosita placed her hand on Imelda’s shoulder with her gentle touch. “He hasn’t glowed for some time now.” The matriarch watched his state for a minute and nodded her head in agreement.

“What will we do?” Victoria probed with sensitivity.

Imelda felt all of their eyes on her and the musician in her arms, awaiting an answer that would determine the direction of their actions. Her mind was still frazzled and conflicted with previous truths and the one she knew now. But her heart had given her the answer and it felt right.  

“We are bringing Héctor home,” she  answered, glancing down at his face. “It’s been almost a hundred years...it’s time for him to come home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the link to his song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIaDtfplmyQ


End file.
